HERBERT:
[_Comes in hastily._] How was the end received? A success—I’m sure.
SHAKESPEARE:
A babel, Herbert, as usual. Not enough clowning, Chettle says, and the
general echo him.
HERBERT:
The dull clods have no eyes for beauty, no ears for poetry. I had to go
before the end; you forgive me? The play was splendid, one line a
miracle—“How all the other passions fleet to air”—[_putting his hand on
Shakespeare’s shoulder_]—but now I must be off to Court to persuade the
old harpy to “order” the performance of the “Merry Wives.” But you’re
not listening.
SHAKESPEARE:
Thinking. You might do something else for me at Court.
HERBERT:
Anything, at Court or in Hades, ’tis only another name for the same
place.
SHAKESPEARE:
There was here but now a Maid-of-Honour, Mistress Mary Fitton; do you
know her?
HERBERT:
A Maid-of-Honour, here! Alone? [_Laughs._]
SHAKESPEARE:
No, Lady Rutland, Sidney’s sister, and Lady Jane Wroth were with her.
HERBERT:
She must be new, I don’t know her. Was she dark or fair? Tall or short?
SHAKESPEARE:
Eye to eye with me. Dark as night, and as night mysterious, wonderful.
HERBERT:
This at first sight! But what can I do?
SHAKESPEARE:
Speak for me to her. Say what you can: that motley is not my proper
wear, that I’m not all an actor lost to shame and dignity, that—but you
will find a thousand better words. Had I to plead for you in such a
cause, the unsentient and inconstant air should ache for love of you.
HERBERT:
I’ll do my best. Had Southampton any news?
SHAKESPEARE:
That Raleigh still inflames the Queen against the Irish.
HERBERT:
We’ll make short work of him; he’s staled with use. The Queen laughs at
him. I want her to hear your play, and to give you a place with the Lord
Chamberlain as Master of the Revels—Judge accredited of plays and
players! Leave it to me, my friend! I’ll kiss her lips and praise her
legs till she does all we want. Our star is climbing up—up!
SHAKESPEARE:
Your old loving thought for me—but who climbs should go light, and not
be burdened with another’s weight.
HERBERT:
You’re easily carried! I’ll bring you tidings later, if I encounter with
your gipsy—Ha! Ha!—Farewell. [_Turns at the door and comes back._] But
why should you not plead your own cause?
SHAKESPEARE:
How? Where? This stage is far from Court.
HERBERT:
That’s nothing; desire will bridge the broadest river. There’s to be a
masque at Court to-morrow afternoon. Come, then, and meet your fair.
SHAKESPEARE:
Without right—or command?
HERBERT:
The Lord Chamberlain will send an invitation to any friend of mine: I
need not name you.
SHAKESPEARE:
But if by chance it becomes known——
HERBERT:
’Twill not be known. Half the guests will be masked; some of the girls,
I hear, will be dressed as pages, foresters; I know not what. You will
not be noted. Now I must be gone. Farewell, masker, may you have merry
hours. [_Exit Herbert._]
[_Enter, crossing stage from_ L. _to_ C., _the ladies, still accompanied
by Southampton, Lacy and Burbage_.]
SOUTHAMPTON:
[_While the ladies are cloaking at the door._] What think you of our
Court ladies, Shakespeare?
SHAKESPEARE:
[_Gazing at Mistress Fitton._] What pride and—
SOUTHAMPTON:
You mean the tall, dark girl? Mary Fitton; a rare wench. Do you think
her beautiful? Some say she’s too dark.
SHAKESPEARE:
She is all the beauty extant!